Oleh
: Jennifer Howard
Senior
reporter for The Chronicle
Books
reveal themselves. Whether they exist as print or pixels, they can be read and
examined and made to spill their secrets. Readers are far more elusive. They
leave traces—a note in the margin, a stain on the binding—but those hints of
human handling tell us only so much. The experience of reading vanishes with
the reader.
How
do we recover the reading experiences of the past? Lately scholars have stepped
up the hunt for evidence of how people over time have interacted with books,
newspapers, and other printed material.
"You're
looking for teardrops on the page," says Leah Price, a professor of
English at Harvard University and the author of How to Do Things With
Books in Victorian Britain (Princeton University Press, 2012).
"You're looking for some hard evidence of what the book did to its
reader"—and what the reader did with the book.
Price's
work perches at the leading edge of a growing body of investigations into the
history of reading. The field draws from many others, including book history
and bibliography, literary criticism and social history, and communication
studies. It looks backward to the pre-Gutenberg era, back to the clay tablets
and scrolls of ancient civilizations, and forward to current debates about how
technology is changing the way we read. Although much of the relevant research
has centered on Anglo-American culture of the last three or four centuries, the
field has expanded its purview, as scholars uncover the hidden reading
histories of cultures many used to dismiss as mostly oral.
It's
a tricky business. A bibliographer works with hard physical evidence—a
manuscript, a printed book, a copy of the Times of London. A scholar
seeking to pin down the readers of the past often has to read between the
lines. Marginalia can be a gold mine of information about a book's owners and
readers, but it's rare. "Most of the time, most readers historically
didn't, and still don't, write in their books," Price explains.
But
even a book's apparent lack of use can be read as evidence. "The John F.
Kennedy Library here in Boston owns a copy of Ulysses whose
pages—other than a few at the very beginning and very end—are completely
uncut,” she says. “This tells us something about the owner of the copy—who
happens to be Ernest Hemingway."
"The
history of reading," Price says, "really has to encompass the history
of not reading."
Anyone
who has ever displayed a trophy volume on the coffee table knows that people do
many things with books besides read them. A book can be deployed as a sign of
intellectual standing or aspiration. It can be used to erect a social barrier
between spouses at a breakfast table or strangers on a train. It can be taken
apart and recycled or turned into art. Price's recent work recreates
Victorians' many extratextual uses of books.
Earlier
work involving reader-reception theory and book history helped point the way
toward current investigations of readers and reading. In 1984, a prominent
literary critic and cultural-studies professor, Janice Radway, published a
groundbreaking study, Reading the Romance, which investigated how reading
genre novels helped a group of contemporary women in the Midwest cope with the
demands and strictures of their lives. Radway, a professor of communication
studies at Northwestern University, went on to write A Feeling for Books,
about the Book-of-the-Month Club and middle-class literary sensibilities, and
co-wrote a volume of a multipart history of the book in America.
Since Reading
the Romance, the ethnography of reading has taken off among scholars. Radway
points to Forgotten Readers, Elizabeth McHenry's study of African-American
literary societies, Ellen Gruber Garvey's Writing With Scissors, about
scrapbooking, and David Henkin's City Reading, about signage in the urban
environment, as strong examples. "People have become very creative about
trying to figure out how groups of readers interact with the text as it's
embodied in various forms," she says.
Historians
of the book have had a substantial influence on the development of the history
of reading. For instance, in 1996, Robert Darnton, a historian of 18th-century
France, published The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France,
in which he argued that surreptitious reading of banned books helped set off
the powder keg of the French Revolution. Darnton, now the director of libraries
at Harvard University, has published a number of other influential works on
publishing history and the uses of books.
In
2001, Jonathan Rose, a professor of history at Drew University, upended
assumptions about what nonelite Britons did and didn't read in The Intellectual
Life of the British Working Classes. Rose, who co-founded the Society for the
History of Authorship, Reading, and Publishing, is now at work on a study of
Winston Churchill's reading, how it shaped him, and how reading Churchill in
turn influenced younger politicians, including John F. Kennedy.
Scholars
have also been moving the history of reading beyond the Anglo-American context.
In 2003, Isabel Hofmeyr, a professor of African literature at the University of
Witwatersrand, in South Africa, published The Portable Bunyan, which
examinedPilgrim's Progress as a "transnational book" that found
readers around the world, including in sub-Saharan Africa. This year Archie L.
Dick, a professor of information science at the University of Pretoria,
published The Hidden History of South Africa's Book and Reading Cultures (University
of Toronto Press).
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